


These Precious Scars

by devotchka



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: 2nd person POV, M/M, Masturbation, Violent Fantasies, Wire Play
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-30
Updated: 2020-06-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:48:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24997861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devotchka/pseuds/devotchka
Summary: You've never known a toy to respond to its own breaking, and the concept fascinates you.
Relationships: Connor/Gavin Reed
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	These Precious Scars

You remember being a kid and getting your first action figure -- some superhero doll that you could do whatever you wanted to. You remember the thing as well dressed and happy, as pristine down to the last detail, and you really loved that toy. You still wrecked it.

Between then and now you've broken plenty more, and it's never gotten any more difficult than the first.

As you grew up, the toys you broke got bigger and more complex. They gained the capacity to do more and more for you. The days of play-pretend objects died in your childhood, and you grew into the days of service submission.

The "toys" adults play with now look like people; they walk and talk and act like people, but their entire purpose is to serve.

Your newest toy is named Connor. He's conventionally attractive solely because he was designed to be that way, and he was designed to be that way because it pleases the majority.

You aren't in that majority. Still, there are parts that please you, too, somehow -- his subservience, his naivete, his innocent round face.

You aren't surprised when, eventually, the resolve to break Connor sets in. It comes gradually and unrushed, like second nature. He's just like every other toy you've had in that way.

The more you look at Connor the more you want to do it. You wonder what his insides look like, all filled with blue blood and tiny, deliberate components. You wonder if his programming will be more or less existential about shutting down. You wonder if he might scream or cry.

You've never known a toy to respond to its own breaking, and the concept fascinates you.

* * *

Connor lives to serve, and that servitude extends to you. He doesn't think to question you as, after hours, he meets you in an interrogation room. You've never set a date with an object before, but here you are. This is the future and all.

He sits where the interrogated normally do. You stand.

He -- _it_ \-- knows what you believe about the concepts of humanity and androids, and still showed without hesitation. That about closes the case on any "humanity" androids might have as far as you're concerned. It is truly just a _thing_.

Preambles and pretense are above something so lifeless, so you spare none.

You grab it by the hair and crane it's neck back, and it stills in your grasp. "Detective Reed," it gasps, as if it's been caught off guard. "what are you doing?"

The attempt at humanity does nothing to dissuade you. Rather, you find it encouraging, because the imitation and the platitudes are honestly pathetic. You slam it's head forward and right into the table. It makes some choked sound in response, as if you've hurt it.

Maybe you banged up some sensors is all.

"Ever since you came into this station, the only thing I've wanted to do is rip you apart." You reply.

Then you're grabbing it by the lapels of it's shirt, and you're twisting it around to face you, and slamming it's heavy frame backwards against the interrogation table.

Now, it struggles. Now it's eyes go wide, as if it's in a state of fear, and you wonder just how deep it's programming goes. Maybe it acts this way to inspire guilt, to force confessions -- something predetermined and pointless.

It grabs at you, trying to push you off of it, and you respond by slamming it's head back into the metal surface below. Strange, having an object fight back.

"Detective Reed, _stop_!" It tries.

CyberLife really must not want their expensive toys to be broken. Connor is, at the end of the day, just a doll meant to carry out conversations, meant to act as a portable lab, meant to make the jobs of human beings that much easier to perform. Your job would be a lot easier without it.

"Open yourself up." You say. "Let me see what's inside you."

"Okay." It immediately agrees. It's hands fly up in surrender, letting you see that it doesn't have any contingencies that involve actually fighting back. Submissive as always. "Okay."

* * *

There's nothing special inside of Connor. At your command, it lifted the lower half of it's top — exposing flat, pale, synthetic “skin” — and rooted around just long enough to open a plate shielding it's abdoment.

Inside, it was a mess of wires and motors and sensors, blue blood flowing through all of it, and, ultimately, nothing special at all.

It whimpered as you reached a hand in, and again as your fingers wrapped around various pieces and parts.

Now, hours later and in bed, you hold the memory close. You play it back over and over in your mind. You'd wondered beforehand just how existential an android might get over its own destruction, and it turns out the answer is _very_.

Connor had seemed afraid. You feel fascinated by that.

You think back to the way it felt inside, warm and wet, and it does something to you. It sends that same feeling of adrenaline through you that you felt when you were slapping Connor around; it makes your cock twitch in your pants, and you don't question why over slipping a hand down to address it.

You try to think about women. Mostly, you think about Connor's insides. You think about violating them, about leaving that plate open and seeing yourself thrusting through blue blood and wires. You think about the sounds Connor makes while detecting "pain".

It's the most fulfilling fantasy you've had in a long time.

**Author's Note:**

> This is probably the darkest thing I've ever written for this site, and I kind of let it end at fantasies rather than carrying the whole thing through.
> 
> I'm leaving the work at 1/2 complete because I _do_ feel that way about it, but I'm unsure when or if I'll push on with the next part. It wouldn't be my first time writing a non-con fic, but with a human antagonist -- and with being in their head -- it somehow feels filthier.
> 
> Anyway, it was fascinating to write, and a massive challenge for me; I'm hoping the end result is an enjoyable read. Thanks for sticking with me.


End file.
